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the coldest ground for recreation.

ft. @roniahn

the gust of the winter wind felt like thorns constricting his airways, along with his ears inflamed and in pain just as much as his ice-cold hands frozen even inside his pockets. he's always blindsided by the weather. he'd be thinking spring was approaching as the climate decides to function backwards. this generation really ought to start caring, he thought, though he'd sometimes be guilty himself of believing nothing else but humans possess intrinsic value. where this belief serves purpose, however, is that he's of the opinion that all other beings hold instrumental value.

oddly enough, amid his musing he finds a bag of what looked like food waste. taking a gander and seeing some of the nasty content in there, he could immediately tell because of the general rule that if an animal will eat it then it goes into food waste. it was embedded in him since his landlord had to constantly yell at him to remember where specific garbage go. but he can't really be blamed, can he? every district had it different and he's constantly moving around. who could even remember that much information? not him anyway. as does the person who left this bag too. that collector was either brutal, forgetful, or maybe a saint for abandoning it because this would have been a hefty fine (depending on whose it was).

as it stands, it was a sort of finders-keepers situation. this was haru's responsibility now. and in the name of reducing carbon footprint, he takes it with him. in the cold, no disposal in sight. he's been walking a while he doesn't remember the path he's taken anymore. he couldn't be bothered to take out his phone for a gps direction because that means two hands becoming victim to what felt like hypothermia at this rate.

"why is it so fucking cold?" he muttered under his breath that was absent of water vapor, creating the fleeting, misty cloud that his eyes focuses on until a figure sprouts out of nowhere, as if through the curtains of that same fog. he squints, furrows his eyebrows, and purses his lips trying to decode what his vision was showing him and why they seemed so familiar.

and there she was. the same woman who's been playing cat and mouse with him for months now.

"roni?" saying her name out loud gradually turns his almost-glower into his high cheeks puffing into a wide smile. "is that you forreal?!" he had to make sure in case he was hallucinating again. what she was doing in the middle of the night, in the cold, in a playground, was still a mystery to him but he brushes it off. it was the least of his concerns. the bag he was holding was probably just as much of a mystery to her. the entire situation was harrowingly bizarre. but he takes it in stride. he's had a hard time trying to reach her, after all. this would have been the first time they're seeing each other face to face. the constraints of digital communication has hindered this encounter long enough.

the rest of the night was filled with unnerving silence and the occasional kicking at his feet type of awkwardness. since when have their friendship gone this bad? he thought he'd done enough apologising but clearly not the case. her forgiveness just had to come in her own time. he has to respect that. ironically, getting there would only be possible if he had an instrumental value to her. much like the swings stagnating in the chill of the night, unable to oscillate due to its rusting chains, haru's value to roni seemed to be diminishing. with the band gone and their social circles scattering, he figures she was starting to outgrow him.

fair enough, he thought. he wouldn't want to force anything on her; not a surprise birthday party or a plus-one invite that could go wrong again at best. he figures he could just wait for her to come to him. in her own terms. besides, haru has always been good at waiting. it'll be a pleasure when it's roni. her existence is her intrinsic value.

#voiceover: haru #drabble: haru #roniahn